The Law of Nines

Alex pulled the cord, closing the heavy, ugly blue drapes, shutting out the garish light of the truck-stop signs. Once the drapes were closed, he turned on the lamp on the taller section of the long counter. The dark fake-wood veneer was chipped along the edge of the counter from people hitting into it as they lifted their suitcases up to lay them open. The bedspreads were the same blue as the curtains, with bands of burgundy designs that matched the valence above the window. It was tacky and cheap-looking, but it was a place to stop, to rest, to hide from the people hunting them, and for that reason Alex was delighted with the room, already thinking of it fondly as home, at least home for the night.

Jax sat up, blinking slowly at him, as if the single lamp he had turned on was too bright.

“Lie down,” he told her.

“I can’t. My bladder is going to burst.”

“Oh. The bathroom is right there,” he said, pointing.

He put a hand under her arm and helped her up. Using her legs after the stress of stretching up on her toes all night to breathe followed by the heart-pounding escape left standing almost more than she could manage. Without the spur of terror, her muscles were giving out and her legs wobbled unsteadily.

As he was helping her to the bathroom, she said, “I need a needle and thread. I need to sew up your arm.”

He left her at the doorway into the bathroom. “We’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

She gripped his shirt for support. “Now, Alex. We need to wash it and do it tonight or it will become infected.”

Alex sighed. He had an idea.

“All right. You go use the bathroom. Wash up for bed if you want. I’ll go get what we need and be right back. I’ll leave you the gun.”

“No. I’m hidden inside. You will be out there where people can see you. You have no way of knowing who might be looking. You take the gun. I have my knives.”

He couldn’t imagine that she could fight very effectively in her condition, but he didn’t want to argue and she did make sense. “I’ll be right back. I’ll knock twice, pause, and knock twice again before I open the door so that you know it’s me coming back.”

Alex locked the door and checked it before jogging across the parking lot. It was starting to drizzle. The inky blacktop reflected the bright light of signs off its slick surface. The spotlights pointed up at signs for interstate travelers illuminated the otherwise invisible mist drifting past.

The cross street was busy, even late at night. People were coming off the interstate for gas, to get something to eat, or to stop for the night. Trucks were pulling in and out of a nearby truck plaza.

The convenience store had half a dozen truckers and other travelers inside. Alex carefully checked each one for potential threat as he picked up a basket and went to the coolers. A memory of the first time he’d met Jax flashed through his mind. She had looked at everyone that same way, checking for threat. Now he understood it so much better.

He pulled a handful of packaged turkey slices off a peg in the cooler and threw them in the basket. He grabbed some ham as well, along with a variety pack of sliced cheese. He picked up a couple of six-packs of bottled water and a variety of other small items he thought they might need.

As he kept an eye on a big guy with long, greasy black hair and a beard, he stopped at the section with first-aid supplies and picked up the things he needed. As far as Alex was concerned, the man looked a little too much like a pirate. But in the end it seemed he was buying far too much beer to be a tracker from some distant world hunting the last Rahl.

Nonetheless, it was comforting to have a Glock only a twitch away. After the brawl in his truck had ended, he had quickly retrieved the gun from under the seat. It was a relief to have it handy. The next time someone from another world showed up, he vowed to be ready. They had been fortunate and survived a number of surprise attacks. He didn’t want to be caught unprepared again.

At the checkout counter he asked the clerk for two of the prepaid cell phones on the rack against the back wall. Alex paid for everything with one of the hundred-dollar bills Sedrick Vendis had used to buy Alex’s six paintings.

That seemed not only like a lifetime ago, but like a different life. Maybe it was.

When he got back to the room, Alex knocked with his special signal to let Jax know it was him. When he opened the door, he saw her sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed staring at the TV. There was a talk show on.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he set the plastic bags on the small table.

Jax looked rather alarmed. “I saw one of these things where they held us. I was drugged so I couldn’t pay much attention to it. But they have one here as well, just like at the crazy house. I saw a button that said ‘on,’ so I pushed it.” She pointed. “These pictures appeared.”

Alex thought that having a TV in a “crazy house” was rather appropriate.